A Trio Tale
by Rachel Wilder
Summary: Three linked stories formerly known as The Caretaker, The Hero and The Girl. Tim, Jason and Lyla struggle to find a way to be friends again after Jason learns about Tim and Lyla's betrayal.
1. The Caretaker

The Caretaker

Tim knocked on the office door and looked in. Mrs. Taylor was on the phone, but signaled for him to come in and take a seat. Tim crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from her desk, his backpack falling off his shoulder and onto the floor next to his feet.

"Sure. I can do that," Mrs. Taylor said to the person on the phone. "Okay, take care!"

She hung up the phone and turned to smile at Tim. "Sorry about that. I can't seem to get off the church ladies' list for funeral food."

Tim nodded slightly, not sure how to respond to that.

"So, I got your mid-term reports and good job, Tim. I'm really impressed, but we need to start talking about your plans for next year," the coach's wife said as she opened up the folder in front of her. "What are you thinking, Tim?"

Tim looked up at her, his face blank. Thinking? About college?

"Tim?" Mrs. Taylor asked, snapping her fingers. "You in there? College? You plan on going?"

"Uh…I…I don't know," Tim replied. "Can I?"

Tami looked down at Tim's file and read over the grades and reports. After a moment, she looked back up at Tim. His hair was falling into his eyes as usual; his worn plaid shirt was clean, but with one more snap undone than was really necessary. "Well, I have to be completely honest; your grades aren't super strong, even with your latest turn around."

"Yeah," Tim responded. He knew. School had always been a means to an end. Jason had been on his case to pay more attention to it, but he had been the only one. Billy had never come to a teacher conference, let alone asked Tim if he had done his homework or how his grades were.

"But I know Eric has gotten some calls about you. Have you talked to any recruiters?"

Tim nodded. "A couple, I guess. Uh, A&M, Texas Tech, San Angelo State."

"Well, you could possibly get in there—more likely Tech or San Angelo. Have you thought about a two year option?"

Tim shook his head.

"What's your plan, Tim? You need to start thinking about this. You need to take the SAT. Frankly, you should have taken it three months ago."

Tim dropped his head and didn't respond.

"Tim?"

Tim looked up at her, his hair hanging over his eyes, but not completely obscuring the tears that threatened in his eyes. "I—I don't know what to do, Mrs. Taylor," he replied, his voice choking slightly.

Tami nodded, but didn't speak.

"Nothing is the way it's supposed to be," Tim added. "Street. Lyla. Football. None of it."

"How's it going with Jason?" Tami asked gently.

"Bad," Tim responded. "He—he won't talk to me. I mean, I went over there and I tried, but he can't do it and I don't blame him. I hate me—of course he does too.

"And I want to do something to help Lyla, but anything I do just makes it worse for her. God, I can't believe how they treat her."

"Girls are cruel," Tami replied. "And while I can see what you're trying to do, it's not really helping."

"Yeah," Tim said. "She told me that. Tyra told me that. Street wanted to know why I was asking him to help her. Guess he doesn't get it like the girls do."

"But you have talked to him?"

Tim sighed and shifted nervously in his seat. "Yeah, I went over there last week."

"And how did that go?" Tami asked, her voice filled with concern.

"How do you expect? I messed up royally and now my best friend hates me and is totally alone when he needs us the most."

"Uh huh," Tami replied. "But what about you?"

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"How are you doing?"

Tim looked down at his knees and picked at a hole in his jeans with his thumb. After a moment, he looked back up at Mrs. Taylor. "I don't know what I'll do—I don't know if Street will ever forgive me and if he doesn't…"

"And what about Lyla?"

Tim looked away from the counselor. "She's Street's girl. Even if they're having trouble, she's his girl."

"Do you care about her?" Tami asked.

Tim didn't answer.

"It wouldn't be totally shocking if you did, Tim. You're seventeen. Your best friend has been badly hurt; changing all the expectations you had for your future. You don't have a lot of other people to turn to with your parents gone and she was there when you needed her. That means something and the two of you have shared an experience that no one else at this school can understand."

"But it was wrong," Tim said quietly.

"Of course it was," Tami responded. "But it happened and you have to deal with that. What do you want, Tim?"

"For it not to have happened," Tim answered quickly.

"Well, like the Rolling Stones said, you can't always get what you want," Tami replied. "What else?"

"For Jason to forgive me. For us to be friends again."

"That's fair," Tami answered. "I don't know if it's possible, but if that's what you want, then there are some things you can do."

Tim looked up at Tami. "Like what?"

"Ask him."

"I did," Tim shot back.

"No, I bet you went over there and said you were sorry and you wish you hadn't done it. Am I right?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay, so you need to go back over there again and ask him to forgive you. Tell him you want to be his friend and that you'll wait. And then you have to do it."

"Do what?" Tim asked.

"You have to wait and see if he can forgive you."

* * *

Tim walked down the hallway thinking about what Mrs. Taylor had said. Being friends with Jason had always been the easy thing about life. Sure, Jay had teased him about letting the Rally Girls do his homework in a way that Tim knew he didn't really approve of it, but he also didn't hold it against Tim.

The loss of the friendship left a hole bigger than anything else—his dad leaving, losing his mom; none of it felt like Jason punching him and chasing him away.

He heard Tyra call to him, but ignored her and walked out to his truck. He had to go over to Jason's right now, before he lost his nerve.

Tim pulled up in front of Jason's house. It had been dark the other night when he had come to see Jay and he hadn't really noticed the changes they had to make before Jason came home. Mr. Street had done a really good job with the ramp. It didn't even look weird or anything.

Jay's jeep was still sitting in the driveway. It was weird to think that he'd never drive it again. Tim thought he'd be jealous when the Streets gave Jason the car for his 16th birthday, but instead it had opened up the world to them. They had been able to jump into the jeep and head down to the lake any time they wanted to—they could sure get farther in that jeep than they did on their bikes.

There was a new minivan next to the jeep, complete with handicapped plates. Somehow the plates seemed more permanent. It made sense—they give you the hangtag when you rip up your knee and are on crutches for six months. Tim knew that Jason wasn't going to walk. The chair was for real.

How had everything gotten so messed up? Landry was right. His life was turning into some tragic Steinbeck novel. No wonder he'd been able to make Ms. Levine happy with the report—wasn't he living it every single day now?

It was senior year, with a new coach, who was going to take them somewhere. Street was going to be all-state as quarterback and Tim was going to be there right next to him as an all-state fullback. Jason would go to Notre Dame and Tim might go to Tech. Street would play in the NFL and when he came home, Tim would be there and they'd get that hunting ranch.

And even if none of that other stuff had happened, they would have had their senior year. They had pretty girls to date and a ton of fun ahead of them. There was football, parties, and just hanging out and enjoying their last months together.

He knew Mrs. Taylor was right. He had to talk to Jason again. He had to ask for it—for forgiveness.

* * *

Tim pushed the door to the truck open and got out. He had driven his truck over to this house so many times before. It seemed so foreign to feel nervous outside Street's house. For so many years, it had been the one place he had felt comfortable.

He walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. Jason's mom opened the door up on his second knock.

"Tim," she said, a tired smile on her face.

"Hi, Mrs. Street," Tim replied. "Is—is Jason around?"

"Yes, but," she started.

"He doesn't want to see me," Tim stated.

Mrs. Street nodded. "He won't tell me what happened between you boys—with Lyla, but I wish y'all could work it out. He's really fragile, Tim. Maybe you should wait until he's ready."

"I know, ma'am. I just—I just want a chance to ask him something."

Mrs. Street cast a glance down the hallway towards Jason's new bedroom. "He's in his room. He's been trying to do some review work the tutor brought over earlier."

"Thank you, Mrs. Street," Tim said as he stepped past her and headed for Jason's room.

Tim tapped on the door and then pushed it open.

Jason was sitting at the desk, a book open. He had some kind of cuff on his right hand, covering a couple of his fingers.

"Jay?" Tim asked as he stepped into the room. He looked over at his friend, his eyes caught on Jason's rolled up hands. He used to watch in awe as Jason slid his hands around the football, controlling which way it went across the field, how far it would fly into the intended receiver's hands. It wasn't just that Jay would never run down the field again, but he would never throw a ball like that—control the field through the power of his fingers and arms.

Jason ignored Tim's entrance into his room, his attention staying on his book.

"I know you said you needed some time, but I came to ask you for something," Tim said quietly as he stood in the open door.

"Ask me for something?" Jason responded, still not looking at Tim.

"Yeah," Tim answered. "I—you're my best friend, Six. And I know I'm not in a place to ask for anything, but I wanted to ask you to please forgive me. I can't force you to do that and I won't bug you about it, but I wanted to ask you to forgive me and to please be my friend again."

Jason pushed back from the desk and turned to face Tim. He didn't say anything for a moment, then lifted himself slightly in his seat and looked up at Tim. "I want to forgive you. I want to forgive you and to forgive Lyla for what you did. I hate how this makes me feel.

"But, I can't force that, Timmy. I can't just decide that I'm past what happened—what you did. And I don't know if I can ever get there."

Tim nodded. "I get you, Six. I just had to come over here and say it, in case you didn't know. I know there's nothin' I can do to make this better for you and that kills me. I don't know why I do the things I do—how I let this happen - but I've never felt more sorry about anything in my life."

"It's gonna take time, Tim. I know you don't want to, but you just have to let me be with this and see what happens."

Tim nodded, stood without saying anything else and then reached out and took Jason's hand in his. Jason didn't pull away. He held it for a moment, squeezed Jason's cramped fingers and then turned to leave. _Forgive me_, he mouthed as he left.


	2. The Hero

The Hero

Jason sat for a moment, watching Tim head down the hall. He heard the door close, then watched as Tim headed out to his truck. Tim sat there for a moment, and then started the truck and left.

"You okay, son?" Jason's dad asked as he stuck his head in Jason's room.

"Yeah," Jason said, still looking out the window where Tim's truck had been. He turned and faced his dad. "My room—is it still the same up there, or did you make it into your office?"

"We didn't move anything, except what we brought down here. Your mom moved her sewing stuff into the guest room to make room for my office."

It was hard for Jason to imagine that things weren't exactly the same upstairs. It was like nothing would ever change for him up there, in the place where he couldn't go any longer.

"Can you—I need to get something. Can you take me up there?" Jason asked.

Jason's dad nodded. "Yeah. We can do that, buddy. Let me go get your mom."

* * *

"Are you sure you can hold on?" Jason's mom asked.

"I can do it," Jason replied. "I'm working on arm strength every day in therapy."

Jason's dad stood up, Jason riding on his back with his arms tightly wrapped around his dad's neck and chest. Mr. Street adjusted and then tightened his hold on Jason's legs.

"Okay, Joanne, get the chair and come up behind us."

They climbed the steps slowly, Jason holding on, as they grew closer to the landing. At the top they waited a moment as his mom got the chair in place and Jason's dad slowly lowered him into the chair.

"Do you…" Jason's mom's voice trailed off.

"Dad, can you come in with me?" Jason asked. "I need you to get something for me."

Jason's dad followed him down the hall and into the room he had slept in since they moved into the house when he was eight. The posters were still on the wall—the captains from the Texas squad looking down at him in their uniforms, balls tucked under their arms.

"It's—it's up there in the closet," Jason said as he pointed toward his closet. "There's a bag on the shelf, from Bergdorf's."

Mr. Street opened the closet and reached up onto the shelf where a small bag from the local jewelry store sat. He pulled it down and handed it to Jason. The bag sat on Jason's lap for a moment.

"Do you need help with it?" his dad asked.

Jason shook his head and painstakingly reached into the bag, pulling out the small velvet box.

"Lyla?" his dad asked.

Jason nodded. "I saw it last summer. I wasn't sure when I was going to give it to her—homecoming, Christmas, maybe at graduation. I knew the time would feel right sometime."

He wedged the box between his thumb and fingers on the left hand, trying to get the leverage with his right hand to open the box. After two tries, the hinge snapped open revealing the simple ring with a small diamond inside a heart.

"Can't really give her a ring if I can't even get the box open, let alone put it on her finger," Jason said.

Jason's dad crossed in front of him and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You still gonna give it to her?"

"I don't know," Jason said, his eyes still locked on the ring. "I still love her. And it was just a promise ring, but I don't know if I can promise her anything anymore—a life, heck even that I could forgive her for what she did."

Jason looked up at his dad. "It's almost worse than breaking my neck—they broke my heart. I wasn't prepared for that."

Mr. Street reached out and took Jason's hands in his. "Dear Lord—watch over this family. Give us the strength to face the days ahead and help us to receive your mercy, to feel your salvation and to give us peace. Amen."

"Amen," Jason echoed his father.

"You ready to go back down?" his dad asked.

Jason looked around the room, the place that had been his as a child. "Yeah—I think I'm done here."

* * *

Jason was already awake when the alarm began to beep. He flung his hand over and hit the snooze on the first try.

"Jason? You ready to get up?"

Jason turned and looked up as his mom poked her head in his room. This room was weird. It was on the opposite side of the house and he couldn't get used to the way the sun came in the window in the morning. It was just like so many other things.

"Yeah, I'm ready if you are," Jason responded to his mother.

His mom walked in further and stopped next to the bed. "Do you want to go to church?"

That's right. It was Sunday. The days all seemed to run together now. Today seemed like as good a time as any to get back to normal life—whatever that was.

"Yeah. I'd like that," Jason replied to his mom. "Do we have time?"

Everything took more time now. There was no hopping out of bed and running off to school. There was a routine and it had to be followed, every single day.

"We have time, hon," his mom answered.

* * *

Jason looked out the window as his dad pulled up in front of the church. He had been coming here nearly every week since his parents moved to Dillon when he was four years old. He knew the people, the building—all of it.

He couldn't believe how scared he was. He'd gone down to the cd store without thinking about actually seeing anyone there. All he had wanted was to listen to his music while he worked out. It was okay, but like he had told Mrs. Taylor—he wasn't really ready to be the center of everyone's attention, knowing they were talking about him.

"You ready?" his dad asked as he put the van into park.

"Yep," Jason replied, his voice quiet.

His dad got out of the van, opened his door and started the lift. Jason could see people stopping and waiting while the lift slowly lowered to the ground.

"You okay?" his mom asked, her voice low.

"Yeah, let's just go," Jason said as he rolled forward and down the lift onto the sidewalk. He paused to re-adjust the polo shirt his mom had pulled out of the closet for him that morning. He'd never worn a polo shirt to church, but his button-down shirts didn't seem to fit quite right anymore and besides, he'd have to ask him mom to help him get dressed and he definitely wasn't ready for that.

"Joanne, Mitchell, Jason—good to see you."

Jason looked up at the pastor and stuck out his hand. Herc told him it was good to take the offensive on hand shaking. He said that people would probably be a bit freaked out by the hands at first, but it would be easier if he offered so they could just take his hand in theirs rather than try to figure out what to do with Jason's fist.

"Good to see you feeling better, Jason," Pastor Miller continued. "We're awfully glad to have you back here with us."

Jason followed his mom up the ramp and into the church. The crush of people seemed suffocating, but he pressed on, heading toward the sanctuary.

"Jason."

Jason looked up at the impressive form of Buddy Garrity. "Mornin' Mr. Garrity."

"Good to see you, Jason," Buddy said quietly.

Jason nodded. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about Lyla being there—about her whole family being in the pew right in front of their regular spots.

"Jason, we'd better go," his mom said as his dad moved behind him and began to push his chair through the crowd.

"Hey, why are we going in on the right?" Jason asked. They always sat on the left side of the church, about four pews from the front.

"Uh, they've got a spot over here," his mom replied.

Yeah, special seats for the crippled, Jason thought.

His dad pushed his chair to the spot halfway down on the right where the pew was shorter, leaving a place for his chair, so it wasn't out in the aisle.

"We're so glad you are all able to join us today, especially Jason Street. It's great to have you back amongst us, Jason."

Jason looked up as the pastor concluded his greeting. There was a silence as the congregation rubbernecked looking at him. Then it started—clapping. It was so embarrassing. Jason nodded and smiled at them.

The service continued and eventually, the stares began to decrease. Eventually the only person turning to look at him regularly was Lyla. Every time he looked up, she was looking over at him. Finally he just turned his attention to the Bible in his lap and didn't look up to see if she was still watching any longer.

* * *

_In the night in which he was betrayed, our Lord took the bread and gave thanks…_

Jason listened to the familiar words. The ushers began to move down the aisle with the bread and the wine. When the tray came to him, he watched his mom take two wafers and two cups of wine. She leaned across him and handed the tray to the usher.

_This is my body, given for you._

She laid the wafer on his tongue.

_This is my blood, shed for you._

She lifted the small cup of wine to his mouth.

_Lord, forgive me my sins_, Jason prayed. _Grant me the mercy to forgive those who…help me forgive Lyla. Help me forgive Tim. Please God, help me find peace._

Jason lifted his head and found Lyla looking at him. _Please, please let me find forgiveness_, he begged God again.

As the last hymn began, he leaned over to his mom. "Can we go out now?" he asked, hoping to avoid all the people, the questions, and the pained looks.

His mom nodded and gestured to his dad that they were leaving. She leaned down to pick up her purse and followed Jason as he pushed his chair up the aisle on the side of the sanctuary.

As he entered the entryway, Lyla walked out of the ladies restroom. He hadn't seen her leave the church.

She stopped and smiled at him. He hadn't seen her since she had crawled in his window Friday night. He couldn't forgive her, but he couldn't forget her. He couldn't stand to see her and he couldn't stay away. But he had told her to wait until he told her to come back, that it had to be his decision. Finally, she seemed to be listening to him.

"Mornin' Lyla," his mom said.

Lyla nodded and headed for the door, ducking back into the sanctuary before Jason could say anything.

His mom didn't say anything either, but he felt her hand on his shoulder as she reassured him with a quick squeeze. His parents hadn't asked. He knew Dillon well enough to know that the story had probably gotten back to them, but at least they knew him well enough to let him decide if he wanted to talk to them about it.

"Looks like your dad has the van," his mom said as she reached down and began to push him toward the door.

Jason dropped his hands to the wheels and pushed away from her, away from these people and mostly away from Lyla.

* * *

Jason pushed his chair forward down the sidewalk. Of all the things that had changed, one of the things he hadn't expected was how hard it was to constantly have people around him. He couldn't jump in his jeep and just get away any longer. His parents were there, or he was at therapy or the tutor was over—someone was constantly around, asking him how he was, if he needed anything.

His mom had visibly blanched when he said he just wanted to get outside, by himself, but his dad had told her it was okay. Then he made sure Jason had his cell phone.

What did his mom think he was going to do? Roll out into traffic? She was just going to have to get used to him using his chair to get around until he learned how to drive the van. And he needed the exercise anyway—she had never minded it before when he went out running for an hour or two.

He waited for a car, and then crossed the street into the small park. He and Lyla had come there when they were first dating. There was a good bench for making out down by the creek—across the grass, so no danger of going back there, he thought.

He scanned the park. There was a mother with her two kids playing on the playground equipment. Over on the right there was a tree, providing good shade and down further along the path there was…

Tim was there.

Jason paused, trying to decide what to do. He sat for a moment, watching his friend, on the bench watching the kids playing. He considered going home, then changed his mind and headed toward Tim.

"Kind of creepy, just sitting in a park, watching kids," Jason said as he approached Tim.

Tim looked up, surprised to see Jason in front of him. "Jay."

"Guess we still have some things in common," Jason said as he reached down and set the brakes on his chair.

Tim smiled weakly and looked back down at his hands. "Yeah."

Jason nodded. "You played a good game on Friday. Threw a great block for Smash there, before his touchdown. Scouts talking to you?"

Tim nodded. "A couple. Mrs. Taylor's on my case—last week it was about English, now she says I need to take the SAT. I don't know, though."

"Don't you want to get out of here, Tim? Go somewhere completely new?"

"Some place where no one knows what I did?" Tim responded.

Jason shifted in his chair. "No—just a new start. You don't want to grow up to be your brother, do you? You're better than that, Tim. You know that, don't you?"

Tim shrugged. "Never thought that much about it."

"You weren't going to be able to be my wing man forever," Jason said. "You never thought about that?"

"Honestly, Street—no, I didn't. I wanted to play this season, go to state and then I figured things would work out. I knew you were going to Notre Dame and I wasn't. But I knew eventually you'd be back here. There's no way you'd stay up north forever. And when you got back, I'd be here."

Jason looked up. The mother was ready to leave and the little boy was protesting. He didn't want to leave the park. He could hear her calling to him, to come join her and his baby sister who was already in the stroller.

"Life changes. We grow up. You knew that. And you had to know that you would have to be your own man at some point," Jason stated.

"That's where we're different, Street. You have all of these dreams and plans and all I ever wanted was to be your friend. I wasn't kidding when I said we'd get a ranch and grow old together. That's all I wanted—to be the caretaker."

"Is that what you were doing? Taking care of me? With Lyla?" Jason asked.

Tim looked over at Jason, his hair falling down over his eyes. "Initially, yeah, I was. I can't really explain it to you, but that night, when she found me and broke down—I'd never seen her like that, Six. And I knew that if you could, you'd be there to hold her and try to make the world okay for her again."

"What night?" Jason asked.

"Her birthday—it was raining. Coach had us out doin' wind sprints at the basin and he made me walk home. She stopped and she was just—she just broke, Jay."

Jason looked down at his hands. He had yelled at her that night. Told her to leave. Told her they were done.

"And if I could go back, Jay, I'd still be there for her that night because she needed someone bad. She was hurting in a way I've never seen. But…"

"But what?" Jason interrupted.

"But, I'd go find you the next day and tell you what was happening with her. I'd come and ask you how I could help, what I could do. I wouldn't let the other stuff happen. I—I hate myself for that."

The boys sat silently, the sun shining down on them, the sound of a peewee football game in the distance.

"I hate feeling this way," Jason finally said.

"Me too," Tim responded. "I miss you, Six."

Again the quiet crept in. Tim stared off into the distance, and then stood up.

"Did you see that?" he asked, pointing off toward the creek.

Jason looked up, following Tim's hand. "Where?"

"Hey, let's go," Tim replied, reaching down to release the brake on Jason's chair. He began to push Jason across the grass. He paused before the reached the tree cover, kneeling down next to Jason. He pointed again.

"There, see him?"

Jason looked up to watch the bald eagle make another slow circle around the park, then land in one of the large trees by the creek.

Jason looked down at Tim. "It's good luck, you know—to see an eagle."

"Good," Tim replied as he sat down on the ground next to Jason. "I—I want to do whatever I have to do to make this better, Jay. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but I have to fix this thing; between you and me, between you and Lyla. I can't stand to see you both like this. It's not just the kids at school and cheerleading. She's eating herself up and there's nothing I want more than to feel like I did that day at the lake—for all of us to feel like that. It was the first time that I felt like things might be okay again, that we'd be okay."

"Yeah," Jason replied. "It was like the first time I felt human again, like a real person, not just a patient, or a quad."

"I'm sorry about what we did, but I'm really sorry that we lied to you, that we weren't straight with you, but it all just happened and then I didn't want to hurt you," Tim said quietly. "It's pretty chicken shit, but you got it right, Street—I am a coward."

"I shouldn't have said that," Jason responded. "I just—I was hurt and I wanted to hurt everyone else around me."

Tim sighed and shifted so he was leaning against Jason's legs. "I think we've all done some hurting," he said, looking off into the distance.

"Yeah, well, some of us had a choice about that and others didn't," Jason snapped back.

Tim didn't reply for a moment and then stood up, standing over Jason. "I know you're the great tragic hero in all of this—that you're the one who got paralyzed and you're the one who got cheated on, but you don't have the corner on getting hurt. Lyla is hurting bad and has been since that game against Westerby and me—hell, I don't know what life used to feel like, so yeah, we screwed up, but you are not the only person who's hurt here, not by a long shot."

Tim turned and walked away. Jason sat and watched him leave. He wanted to call after Tim, but he knew his friend was right. He was being a bastard just because he could. They had hurt him so he was striking back at them for pleasure. As Tim disappeared over the hill, Jason dropped his hands to his wheels and attempted to move forward across the grass. He tried for a few minutes. "Dammit," he swore under his breath. He reached into his pocket for his phone to call his dad.

Waiting for his dad, as the evening grew colder, he began to think about the conversation with Mrs. Taylor.

_"There's no weakness in forgiveness—if that's what you decide."_

He dropped his head and rubbed his hand against his eyes. Forgiveness. He took a deep breath and looked up into the darkening sky. He needed to talk to Lyla. And then he'd talk to Tim. He had to give this burden up. The bitterness and the hatred was a weight he couldn't carry any longer.

And he loved them and needed them in his life.

He'd need them both to get his life back.


	3. The Girl

The Girl

**My boyfriend broke his C7-T1 in a football game. We've tried a couple of times, but I'm ****  
****not sure how to show him that I'm okay with the way things are now. He's so sensitive to ****  
****what's happened and what he can and can't do. I'm not sure how to show him that I love him, and it's not about how things used to be between us.**

Lyla looked at the screen and reread what she'd written. She took a deep breath and pressed enter.

A message popped up in the corner of her computer. She opened her e-mail. You have a new private message. She clicked on the link.

**My husband had the same injury eleven months ago. I know exactly what you're going ****  
****through. I know you've heard it before, in rehab, from friends, but honestly, it just takes time. Please let me know if I can help with anything. I'd be happy to chat or you ****  
****can call if you like—sometimes it's easier to talk about these things off-line.**

Lyla looked down at the keyboard, trying to decide how to respond. Her boyfriend. Was that even true? What was Jason to her now, other than the one she loved—and the one she'd hurt more than any other person in her life.

"Lyla, telephone," her mother called from the hallway.

She reached over and picked up the phone on her desk. "Yes?"

"Lyla?"

Jason. It had been two long days since the night she'd crawled into his bedroom. He'd been so cold at church that morning, so unlike the Jason she had known since grade school. Jason had always smiled at her, always been happy to see her, always until he found out about her and Tim.

"Hey," she replied quietly. She suddenly felt so shy around him, unsure of what he wanted or expected.

"Can you come over?"

Lyla pulled down the cover on her laptop and stood up. "Sure. Give me a few minutes and I'll be over."

* * *

Lyla pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. She put on a little more lipstick and pressed her lips together.

It was starting to feel hopeless—that she would never work things out with Jason, but as long as he was still asking, she'd go.

_She would never forget the sound that night; the bodies hitting each other on the football field, the cheer for the fumble and then the silence. She could hear someone screaming Jason's name. It wasn't until she talked to her friend Melanie the next week that she knew it was her._

_She had followed the paramedics off the field, trying to see Jason, to tell him it would be okay. She watched as his mom climbed up into the ambulance, wondering where she was supposed to go. Jason's dad had taken her hand and led her to his car. She just sat in the passenger seat, not noticing as he pulled the seatbelt across her and hooked it._

_Logically, she knew it was shock, but it had all felt like a blur. Jason's dad had rushed in to find Mrs. Street and talk to the doctors, but she had stayed in the hallway. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been there when people had started arriving after the game._

_That first night was so long, not knowing what was happening, if Jason would even live. Finally the nurse came out and found her, saying Jason was asking for her._

_"He's just coming out of the anesthesia, but he is asking for you," the nurse said._

_Lyla nodded, not sure what to say._

_"He's in a halo vest right now and has a lot of tubes, but he's breathing on his own and doing pretty well," the nurse added._

_A halo? Lyla thought as she nodded at the nurse. She wondered how anything about this horrible night could resemble anything like angels. Where were the angels on the field when they could have protected Jason?_

_"It's to keep his neck stable, until we're sure the surgery did what it was supposed to do," the nurse explained. "He's got a vest on and rods that go up to the brace on his head."_

_Lyla followed her silently. Jason's mom was asleep in a reclining chair next to his bed. His dad wasn't in the room. The halo—it was awful, with long bars going to the vest on his body. He was so still. Jason was never like that._

_She walked over and slipped her hand in his, touching his fingers. There was a clip on his finger that connected to one of the many machines. A tube was in his nose, helping him breath. She reached up and touched his cheek. Jason's eyes opened and he looked at her._

_"You don't have to talk," she said. "I love you, Jason."_

_A tear dripped from the corner of his right eye. She reached up and wiped it away. "You're going to be okay. I know you are."_

And the thing was, she really thought he'd be okay. Never in a million years did she think that night that any of this would happen. If that nurse had come back in and said, "Your boyfriend will never walk again. He'll barely be able to use his hands. You won't be able to have sex normally with him. You'll start sleeping with his best friend." If she had said any of that; Lyla would have laughed at her and walked away. It was all so impossible to comprehend, or at least it had been that night.

But in the last two months, all of it had come true and Lyla couldn't really pinpoint a time when she realized it was happening until it just was the way things were.

She pulled up in front of Jason's house. She started up the sidewalk when the door opened and Jason came out.

"Let's go somewhere," Jason said as he came closer. "I want to talk and I don't particularly want my parents hanging on our every word."

"Okay," Lyla responded as she turned and walked back toward the car. "Do you want to drive somewhere?"

Jason stopped and thought for a moment. "Yeah. Do you think you can help me in the car?"

"Where's your thing? The transfer board?" she asked as she followed Jason to the car.

"Uh, it's in the house," Jason replied.

"Are you running away? Or do you just not want your parents to see me with you?" Lyla asked.

"Let's just go," Jason retorted.

Lyla came over to the passenger side and opened the door. Jason pulled his chair closer and set the brake.

"Here, lean over and I'll hold on to your neck," Jason directed. "Then just pivot and let me down."

Lyla leaned over as Jason looped his arms around her neck. She lifted and turned as Jason balanced, then let him down into the seat.

"Thanks," he said as he lifted his legs into the car. Lyla leaned in and hooked the seat belt around him.

She pushed the chair around to the back of the car, laid the back seat down and slid the chair into the back of the car.

"Okay, where to?" she asked as she got in the driver's seat.

"You want to go to the lake?" Jason asked.

"Sure," Lyla said as she pulled onto the highway and headed out of town.

* * *

**Spinal cord injury recovery**

_Lyla looked up at the computer screen. She'd been googling all night, trying to find something, anything to give her some hope—to find something to give Jason some hope._

**Foreman Makes Amazing Recovery**

_Lyla opened the link and began reading. Nathan Foreman had fallen off a balcony at a party. After ten months of therapy he had returned to his position as guard on the UC-San Diego basketball team._

_Jason could recover. He could still go to Notre Dame. He could walk and run and play football. All of their dreams could still come true._

_As Lyla slipped into her pajamas, she smiled. She'd tell Jason all about Nathan Foreman tomorrow when she visited him in the hospital._

* * *

"So, is it weird to go out there again? To the lake?" Jason asked.

Lyla turned and looked him. They'd been quiet for the ten minutes they'd been in the car. "Sure. Dad took the boat out for the season, but the dock is still in."

"Good."

Going to the lake did seem like a strange choice. The last time they'd been there had been that amazing day with Tim. Was he going to bring that up? What was going on with them?

_She pulled away from Tim's house. She could feel his scent on her, the roughness of his lips against hers as he had grabbed her and kissed her. What was she doing? She loved Jason._

_It's not like she thought it would be just like it always had been—Jason had always done such special things for her birthday, so take-out in a hospital and watching a movie was already a sign that their lives had totally changed, but his anger had shocked her._

_He had never spoken to her like that. Never. She'd never seen that side of Jason, ever. He was so angry, so hurt, so lost._

_They were all lost. Everything was gone. Everything._

_She drove to her house without realizing—not sure if she had obeyed any traffic laws. She pulled the car into the garage and sat there, not moving._

_Jason's words played over and over in her head—they were done, not getting married._

_It couldn't be ending, not this way._

_She walked into the house, and ran upstairs, avoiding saying goodnight to her parents. She needed a shower—she needed to get Tim off her._

_She was Jason's girl._

Lyla pulled the car up near the dock and got out. She walked around the back and retrieved Jason's wheelchair. She pushed it around to his door and they carefully reversed the process of getting him back out of the car.

"Can you get down there?" she asked, knowing she couldn't carry Jason like Tim had a few weeks before.

"Yeah," Jason replied. "I'm a lot stronger, now."

Lyla nodded. It was true. It was like Jason was back to himself, for the most part—well, except for this distance between them. That had never existed before.

She followed him as he pushed down toward the dock. At the end, he popped the front wheels of his chair up slightly and rolled onto the dock. He stopped a couple of feet down, turned to face her and set the brakes.

Lyla sat down on the dock next to him. If she forgot about the distance between them, this felt right—this had always been their place to get away from the prying eyes of their families.

"So," Lyla started.

"Yeah," Jason replied.

She looked out over the lake. It was still. All of the boats had been pulled for the season and only a few ducks remained along the edge, swimming silently. A fish jumped out in the middle of the lake, causing a ripple to move across the water.

"Tim gave me a piece of his mind today," Jason finally said.

Lyla looked up at him in surprise. "You talked to Tim?"

"Yeah," Jason answered. "He came over the other day and then I saw him this afternoon—ran into him at the park."

"What did he say?" Lyla asked, her voice quiet.

Jason looked down at her, then out at the lake. "Well, the other night he asked me to forgive him and then today he got on my case—told me to stop being the martyr."

"Seriously?" Lyla asked.

"Yeah, said we'd all been hurt, not just me—that we were all at fault."

Lyla didn't answer.

"He told me about that night—the night he kissed you, that it was your birthday."

"That's no excuse," Lyla answered quietly.

Jason reached down and took her hand. "I was really awful that night. Totally out of line, to be honest."

"You were hurt and scared. We both were," Lyla answered as she looked down at her hand in Jason's. "It doesn't make up for what I did."

"I talked to Mrs. Taylor the other day," Jason said.

Lyla looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah—really kind of went over to talk to Coach, but he wasn't home and we ended up talking about—well, what's been happening. She's a really good listener. Told me that it wasn't the worst thing to just forgive people."

Lyla nodded. "I talk to her, too."

"Does it help?" Jason asked.

"I think so," Lyla answered. "I'm not blaming her, but she told me not to tell you about what happened. I—I talked to her after it was over, before you found out."

Jason didn't answer for a moment, and then looked back down at her. "I wish I didn't know. It's like there's this thing that's stuck between us and it's out there and we all know what happened and I know that I can say that I forgive you and move on, but what if I hold it against you or Tim later? What if I can't actually forgive you or worse, what if I can never forget what happened?"

"I don't know how you could forgive me," Lyla answered, quietly.

_She stood at the top of the bleachers and looked down at Tim on the field. Seeing him out there, running and catching the ball from Saracen, made her sick. It just reminded her all over again of what they'd lost and what she'd ruined._

_She didn't need to be standing out here watching over Tim Riggins. She needed to go to the hospital and see her boyfriend—the one who loved her, who had a broken neck and needed her more than he ever had._

_She thought about her conversation with Mrs. Taylor. How could the counselor ask her what her plans were? She'd had a plan—follow Jason to Notre Dame. There was no other plan. Ever._

_She couldn't think about what she was going to wear to school tomorrow, how did anyone expect her to know what she would do with her life now?_

_She was supposed to be Homecoming Queen. She was supposed to be the valedictorian. She was supposed to ride off into the sunset with her prince._

_Instead she was a dirty cheating whore._

"I don't know if it's gonna be a conscious decision," Jason replied. "I keep asking God for peace, to stop feeling this way and if it's his will for me to forgive you, then it will just happen."

"I ask God for forgiveness every night," Lyla answered quietly. "I don't really know what else to do. This isn't exactly how I thought things would end up."

"Yeah, me either," Jason answered, looking off at the sunset.

"I didn't mean to push you the other night," Lyla said.

"Push me?"

"About being together—I mean, about sex. I just, I want you to know that I still want to be with you, no matter what has changed, as long as you want to be with me."

Jason pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. "I'm scared, you know. I know that I feel like I want to be with you and then it's so different and I just don't know how it can ever be like it was before. My body feels totally different. I can look down and see that something got me hard, but I can't feel that, Lyla. I don't know if it would stay that way if I tried to get inside of you. Sometimes, like the other day, when there's nothing else I want than to be with you, I can't get it up. And…" Jason's voice trailed off as he dropped Lyla's hand and turned away.

"What, Jason? Tell me what's worrying you," Lyla asked.

"Remember that day—the one before I got my brace off, when we got interrupted?" Jason asked.

Lyla stood up and moved behind Jason, her hand on his shoulder. "When Francine came in?"

"Yeah," Jason replied. "She—she told me that I had to be careful, that I couldn't ejaculate because it would cause UTIs, that I could get sick."

Lyla reached down and pulled Jason back around so he was facing her. "She told you what?"

"That sperm would go up in my bladder and give me an infection."

"Did you ask anyone else about this?" Lyla questioned.

Jason shrugged.

"Well, I'm not an expert, but I've read a few things since you got hurt and I've never heard that, Jason. Never."

Jason looked up at her. "What?"

"You must have misunderstood or she was just flat out wrong, but ask Herc—I'm sure he's having a lot of sex.

"Everything I've read or heard from people says that it's unlikely that you can ejaculate, which is why it might be hard to have kids naturally, but it doesn't hurt you," Lyla explained. "Is this why you were so freaked out?"

Jason shrugged again. "Yeah, kind of—I mean nothing in my body works like it did before and my plumbing is all messed up. I just figured she knew what she was talking about and…"

Lyla leaned in and kissed Jason. "We can't hurt each other making love and heck, now we probably don't even have to worry about an accident."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Jason asked.

Lyla shrugged. "I looked it up, read some message boards and asked some questions."

"Asked questions?" Jason responded.

"Yeah," Lyla answered. "You know, we aren't the first people to go through this. You should get out there as well and meet some more people. They share tips and offer support. It's a good thing, Jason. You're not alone in this. We're not alone in it.

"I know you're not quite ready for it now, but when you are, let's go somewhere that we can be alone, not worrying about our parents and we'll just give it a try and see what happens," Lyla said.

Jason reached out for Lyla's hands. She wrapped her hands around his curled fingers. "You're amazing, you know," he said as her fingers played across his.

"So, I'm forgiven?" she asked, looking up at him.

Jason nodded. "I don't know why sometimes, but I love you, Lyla Garrity."

Lyla reached up and kissed Jason. "I have always loved you, Jason, and I don't know just why you're forgiving me for what I've done, but it's part of why you're such an incredible person."

Jason leaned down and kissed her again, his hands pulling her closer to him.

Lyla slid back, breaking the embrace. "And what about Tim?" she asked.

"What about him," Jason responded, his chin set.

"Will you? Can you?" she asked, her face covered with concern.

Jason shook his head. "I don't know, Lyla. I just don't."

"But, if you can forgive what I did, why can't you forgive him?" she asked.

"Because I know that I hurt you and you were broken inside, and I know Tim—I know that he took advantage of that. He could be with anyone and he chose to be with you. What you did was a mistake. What Tim did was malicious. That's the difference, Lyla."

"But, do you want to spend this much of your life so angry at him?" Lyla asked. "You're giving him a power over your life by being so upset about this."

"So, I can forgive him but I don't have to be best friends anymore?"

"If you want, I guess," Lyla answered. "But, honestly, Jason, is that what you want? Do you really want to never be friends with Tim again? He's like a brother to you."

"Was," Jason answered. "Or maybe he's Esau to my Jacob."

"Isn't that Jacob to your…"

"Sunday school was a long time ago," Jason replied. "It's harder cause it's Riggs, you know. If it happened with someone else—it would be different."

Lyla looked down at the dock. "I know."

Jason looked up as a truck pulled down the road to the lake. It stopped next to Lyla's car and Tim got out. He stood next to the truck, not moving.

"Did you tell him we were coming out here?" Jason asked, his voice quiet.

Lyla looked up, surprised to see Tim there. "No—I didn't even know we were coming out here, remember?"

"You think he's going to just stand up there?" Jason asked, looking up at Tim—the friend he had counted on for years.

"You want me to go up and talk to him?" Lyla asked, her eyes locked on Jason, ignoring Tim.

"No—" Jason said. "Well, maybe. I don't know."

"If we ignore him, he might just leave," Lyla responded.

Jason looked up at Tim again. "He won't come down here with both of us," Jason said. "There's no way he's going two on one tonight."

"Is that what we are now?" Lyla asked. "Two against one?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like either you're for me or you're against me."

Lyla stood up. "Let me go talk to him a minute."

Jason reached out for the edge of her coat, holding her back for a moment. "You don't have to, Lyla. Just let him figure out we don't want to talk to him. He'll go away eventually."

Lyla leaned in and kissed Jason. "I'll just tell him to go and then I'll come back down and we can get out of here."

"Hey, actually—let me go up there and talk to him," Jason responded.

"Okay," Lyla responded.

She sat on the dock and watched as Jason headed up the hill toward Tim. He paused at one point and she tried to decide if she should go help, but soon enough he started again, pushing himself toward Tim.

* * *

"You follow us out here?" Jason asked as he approached Tim.

Tim shook his head. "Nah, actually just headed out here to think."

Jason sat in front of Tim, his hands in his lap.

"You and Lyla…" Tim began.

"Yeah, I think we worked things out," Jason answered.

"Good," Tim replied. "I never meant…"

"I'm not sure what you thought you meant or not, but Riggins, you abandoned me when I needed you the most, you stole my girl when I needed her the most and when I needed to trust you the most, you lied to me. So, Tim—it's not gonna be resolved as easy as it was for me and Lyla."

Tim looked down at his boots and kicked at the dirt.

"But," Jason started again, "I don't know what's going to happen, but it's also hard for me to imagine never being your friend again."

"Me too," Tim replied, his eyes still locked on the ground.

"So, I hope you can wait until I can do it," Jason said. "Right now, I need to keep figuring life out, stuff with Lyla, get back to school—all that stuff."

Tim looked up at Jason. "I'm glad you were able to work it out with Lyla. I've felt real bad about the two of you—I mean, losing each other along with everything else."

Tim turned and started walking toward his truck. He stopped before he got in, leaning on the edge of the truck bed. "I'd wait the rest of my life for you, Six. You don't have to worry about that."

_FIN _


End file.
